Fallout: Tales of a Wasteland Adventurer (Intro)
by TragicShow
Summary: In the year 2291, the city of Charlotte is shrouded by bleak, gray skies and radioactive storms. Many settlers, raiders, and scavengers live in a constant battle for survival below the enormous, lifeless structures of twisted metal housing the hidden treasures of the Old World from the perilous wasteland beyond.


Chapter 1

War. War never changes.

In the 21st century, the world had witnessed the rise and fall of countless great empires. Against all odds, humanity managed to keep itself alive through the many perils it faced, both from nature, and its very own existence. In the year 2077, humanity had spanned the surface of the Earth, then housing some of the greatest civilizations the world had ever seen. Yet despite their immense technological advancements, mankind's lust for power became its ultimate undoing. On the fateful day of October 23rd, 2077, it seemed as though man had taken his last breath. Nuclear fire scorched the Earth and its inhabitants, torching the surface and transforming whatever remained into horrifying abominations. Yet somehow, man prevailed. For better or worse, humanity's constant urge to destroy itself was only surpassed by its insatiable desire to stay alive. From cryogenic stasis to cybernetic augmentations, the pre-war elites of the United States created numerous inventions to bring themselves closer to immortality in preparation of the fateful days to come. The remnants of these inventions largely remain hidden in underground fallout shelters, known as vaults. 200 years later, many of these vaults have remained sealed since the day the bombs fell. One such vault, Vault 119, housed more than just pre-war artifacts from a world that had died long ago, and the shroud hiding whatever machinations lay deep inside was soon to be lifted.

The still, dry air hovering over the outskirts of the destroyed city of Charlotte broke under the sound of blaring alarms and the shrill screeching of metal. A giant, circular door with the numbers "119" faintly imprinted on the front began to slide back into the cave wall, revealing light into a room that had not seen the sun for over two centuries. The walls of the vault were covered in gray paint, looking as fresh as the day it was plastered on by some poor Vault-Tech employee who has been dead for over 200 years. Someone clearly put a lot of care (and abraxo) to make sure that this vault was perfectly maintained. The untarnished floors soon became tainted by muddied footprints from a group of three men who stepped through the entrance. The men covered themselves in multiple layers of clothing and wore scraps of cloth covering their mouths and noses, perfect for keeping the dry dust of the wasteland out. The tallest of the group, who carried an augmented hunting rifle and wore a long, tan trench coat covered in pouches to hold loot and ammunition, pulled down the protective covering from his face and took a deep breath of air. His brown left eye opened and slowly adjusted to the darkness as his right eye remained closed behind the scar from an encounter with a rabid Yao Guai. He pulled the back of his right forearm up towards his face and examined the flickering screen of an authentic Pip-Boy 3000. With the press of a button, a light emanating from the Pip-Boy soon illuminated the dark corners of the vault entrance.

"Hey, Skimpy. See if you can activate that terminal over there and turn on the goddamn lights." Said the man as he pointed to the corner of the room at a computer terminal attached to the wall.

"Got it." affirmed the shortest of the three as he advanced to the terminal. Skimpy walked with a slight limp, and the lower left side of his face was disfigured as it shriveled and hung down past his jawline, as if he had suffered some kind of radiation burn. His voice was low and gruff, like that of a ghoul, and although he was certainly no ghoul, he wasn't much of a pretty sight either. His clothes were torn and covered in patches and he had a metal breastplate strapped onto his coat. His pants and arms bore the scorch marks from countless electrical fires. He had a small cap covering his white, bald head and he carried an AER9 laser rifle. His gloved, crooked fingers stretched out onto the keyboard and began typing. "The vault still 'as power, but it's been depleted. Seems the reserve powa is being transfarred to a single room, looks like the overseea's office. Everyfin's been locked down, I can't access anyfin' else from this terminal. We're goin' to 'ave to make our way to the overseea's computa."

"Shit, looks like I gotta be the blind man leading a cripple. Alright, let's hurry up and get there. You gotta come too, Gary. I don't want you staying behind and drinking all our Nuka Cola like last time." The tall man decreed as he signaled his partners deeper into the vault.

"I don't like this: the darkness, the silence. It creeps me the hell out. We should go back and get some more boys down here." Gary complained as he ran his left hand through his balding blond hair. His right hand clutched a 9mm pistol to the front of his bulging stomache.

"Damn it, Gary. I've had enough of turning back on missions because you left behind your baby bottle. If this is too much for you, you can head on back to Belmont without us. You should be fine as long as you don't run into any mole rats." Lectured the tall man.

"Hahahaha!" Roared Skimpy, "Jackson's got you on that one, Gary."

"Wait, shut up, you two, I thought I heard something." Jackson whispered. The trio now stood in an octangular atrium area with the Overseer's window being visible against the back wall. The walls were covered in rows of strange pods that looked like they came out of some science fiction show back before the war. The faint heartbeat of the three men was the only thing that kept them from wondering if they had lost their hearing among the dead silence.

"Maybe it was a mole rat." Joked Gary. Luckily for him, the jest remained unheard by the two men , as their gaze was fixated on a giant assimilation of technology in the center of the room. A massive machine with large tubes stretching outward from it stood before them. A screen in the center of it, once flickering with vast amounts of knowledge, now cast nothing but reflections. Instinctively, Skimpy creeped over to the machine and pressed his hands against the cold metal.

"I'm not an expert, but that doesn't look like the overseer's terminal to me." Jackson pointed out. "Look, you'll have plenty of time to be accustomed with your new girlfriend, but we need to get the damn power on first, don't we? So let's go, the overseer's office is right there."

"Not so fast, if I had to go on guessin', I would say this is the main computa."

"Wait, isn't the main computer usually in the overseer's office?"

"Usually, but this vault looks nuffin like any I've eva seen. Look 'ere, looks like a plug to put your Pip-Boy into. Maybe it'll powa it on."

Jackson hesitated, then reluctantly plugged his Pip-Boy into the computer. The machine soon roared to life, the screen flashed on while displaying endless amounts of data. "You know what the hell's going on?" He asked as he held his Pip-Boy literally at arm's length.

"There doesn't seem to be an input on this damn fing," The screen changed to a display of numbers and more data, "hold on what's this?"

"I don't know," Jackson remarked, "you tell me".

"I'm gettin' life readings. Not sure what to make of it. Hey, wait! The damn fing shut me out!" The text on the screen disappeared, but the screen itself remained on, flickering blue light onto the faces of the perplexed men. An artificial voice then boomed out of the computer's speakers.

"What's going on? Why have you accessed my interface?"

"Who the hell are you?" Jackson asked.

"What? You don't know? What- are you with the United States government? What year is it?"

"Oh boy, I think there are a few things that we need to explain. But I did ask first, so it's only polite to answer; who are you?"

"My name is Dr. Eric Steinfeld. I am a… resident of Vault 119. I would have thought you would know that already. Now, maybe you'll be obliged to answer my inquiries."

"My name is Jackson Taylor. I was in the area and saw that there was a vault nearby, so I decided to pay a visit. If my calendar is right, the current year should be 2092."

"200 years… I- I can't believe it... You say you're not from the government? Are you from Vault Tech?"

"Not exactly. So what are you? Some kind of supercomputer?"

"No, I'm not a computer! Listen, you're not from Vault-Tech, and if you're telling the truth, I've been waiting over 200 years for them to let me out of here. The vault's power supply is nominal, so you're going to need to get me out instead. I'm presiding in the overseer's office, and vacuous as it may seem, the only way to let me out is manually. Just head over to my pod and press the manual release button. You can't miss it."

The door to the overseer's office hissed open, revealing nothing but a human-sized pod in the center of the room. A giant Vault-Tech logo proudly leered above the pod, as if to proclaim who was responsible for whatever sick experiments took place here. A red button with text underneath it saying "manual release" stood out from the end of the metal casket. Jackson carefully inched his way toward the button, as he was all too familiar with Vault-Tech's social experiments, and he did not know if this one was a genuine attempt at preservation of humanity, or just another surprise that had been set by a malicious prankster two centuries ago. Jackson swiveled his hunting rifle around and tapped the button with the butt of it. In true science fiction fashion, the top of the pod became unlatched, releasing a hissing wave of steam from the inside. The cover was lifted to the side, exposing a naked, shriveled up human male, as if he had stayed in a bathtub for too long. His hair was short and black and he had a clean face with a strong jawline. Transparent tubes connected his arms, head, and Pip-Boy 3000 to a control panel at his left tubes soon started pumping red liquid into his body as it began to palpitate and become unwrinkled. "Jesus Christ." Jackson stood back in amazement of what unfolded before him. A loud pop sounded from the pod just as the liquid had run out. There was a brief silence as the three men wondered if the man was even alive. Suddenly, his chest rose up and air filled his lungs. The tubes disconnected, then retracted pack into the panel as the man leaned over the edge of his pod and began to cough.

"Woah! Take it easy, now! It's all right." Assured Jackson as he reached his right arm toward the man. Light from Jackson's pip-boy dimly flickered on the man's face, reflecting the deep blue gaze of his eyes as he looked up a Jackson for a moment before falling into the pod. "We need to get this guy outta here. Help me with this, Gary." Jackson went around the pod and grabbed the unconscious man by his arms as Gary grabbed his legs. "Looks like we're going to have to send a group back here later after all."

Back at Belmont, the group reunited with their camp just on the inside of the town. An old, five story hotel once renting out to some of the wealthiest people in pre-war Charlotte now housed nothing but radroaches and wasteland survivors with barely a few caps to their name. A large wall constructed of cars, wood, various bits of junk, and even parts of the hotel itself surrounded compound. The camp itself comprised of makeshift shacks built from the remains of nearby buildings, and parts of the hotel acted as shelter as well.

Now fully clothed, the man from the vault slept on a makeshift bed in one of the shacks where he had been for three days. It was nearing the late afternoon when his nose was the first thing to become fully aware of its surroundings. The shelter was mostly barren, and trickles of light rained down from small holes in the ceiling. The door was nothing but a strip of cloth covering an entryway. A horrid stench came from a fire outside where a group of survivors were making a stew out of something that looked like a giant fly. Wrenching and gasping for clean air, the vault dweller got up from his bed onto his shaking legs before they quickly gave out and he plummeted onto the floor. Hearing the thud, a woman opened up the flap of the shack and saw the dweller struggling to pick himself back up. "Woah! Easy there, easy. You've been out cold for a few days now. Just relax for a moment, take it easy." She cooed in a very gentle, soothing voice. "Can you tell me your name?"

"E- Eric Steinfeld" he joked.

The woman peered at him quizzically with sharp, green eyes. "I'm sorry, this must feel all very strange to you. Here, let me help you up." She gripped Eric's shoulders with her two massive arms and hoisted the weak man like a baby into a metal chair in the corner. She brushed her long, red hair back behind her head. "Let me get you something to eat." She stepped outside, and in a few moments came back with a wooden bowl of piping-hot something. "Here, this should refill your energy. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm f-fine." He choked, both from his weakness and the disgusting smell of the stew she handed to him.

"Okay, I'm going to step outside for a moment, if you need anything, just holler. By the way, my name is Isabella, welcome to Belmont"

Eric stirred the fluid in the bowl while contemplating whether he should eat it considering the smell was bad enough to drop a horse. Writhing from hunger pains, he lifted the spoon into his mouth and took a sip. The stew soon came right back out with a bit else as he began to gag as his tongue literally burned in abhorrence. "HAHAHAHA!" Billowed a voice from the entrance. "Not a fan of bloatfly meat, are you? It's an acquired taste. Luckily, I have a pack of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes, which should agree more with your virgin tongue." Eric recognized the man standing before him, now presenting a rather appetizing box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes, as the one who called himself Jackson.

"You were the one at the Vault." Eric said as he grabbed the cakes without hesitation, opening the box and stuffing the small, stale cakes into his mouth. "Were armm I?"

"Shouldn't talk with your mouth full, kid." Jackson joked. Although Eric was in his late 30s, he looked very young for his age. "But I guess I shouldn't call you that considering you're probably a lot older than me. Were you seriously locked in that cage for over 200 years? Before the bombs fell."

Eric stopped eating for a moment, "Yeah."

"Shit, I guess I've got a lot to explain to you then. But first, I'd like to know what exactly you were doing in that vault in the first place."

Hesitant, Eric answered, "What everyone did in a vault, I suppose. Except this one had us put into some sort of pods, putting us into suspended animation and hooking us into the main computer as something I can only describe as a collective hive mind."

"That… Seriously sounds fucked up. Although I guess I shouldn't be surprised at this point considering what I've come to expect from Vault-Tech, bastards." Jackson's gaze fixated on the floor for a moment. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but none of the other folks in the vault survived. You're the last one. I hope you weren't close to any of them."

Eric had emptied the box. He crumpled up the packaging from the cakes and crammed it back inside. "Yeah, I know".

"Well, once you regain some of that strength, I'll take you out on a supply run. There are a few things you need to know about how things work around here if you want to survive, and you'll be expected to carry your own weight, so don't expect anymore handouts. I'll meet you by the camp entrance in a couple hours. Oh, and before you even ask, Isabella's mine." With his rifle slung behind his back, Jackson exited the shack, leaving Eric wondering of the world he had just stepped into.

 _In the year 2291, the city of Charlotte is shrouded by bleak, gray skies and radioactive storms. Many settlers, raiders, and scavengers live in a constant battle for survival below the enormous, lifeless structures of twisted metal housing the hidden treasures of the Old World from the perilous wasteland beyond. Welcome to Fallout: Tales of a Wasteland Adventurer. In this first (and shortest) chapter of this series, we look into the life of a mysterious vault dweller who has recently been introduced to the unforgiving wastes. This series, with original Fallout humor and a lore-friendly story, aims to bring back the dark and ominous feeling of Fallout 1 and 2, while our heroes adventure the wacky wasteland encountering raiders, super mutants, desperate survivors, ghouls, mutated creatures, mole rats, and much much more!_


End file.
